After the car brushed my leg, I was forced into a pot hole. The horrific sound of metal on pavement and the thud of my flesh against the ground left me in a daze.
As the car drove off, the one behind it stopped suddenly and a woman got out frantic. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god! Are you alright?”
“I will be,” I said as I gingerly stood to my feet, taking inventory of the subtle as well as acute aches and pains. The blood oozed down my leg and arm as I mounted my bike and continued my commute to the office.
Several people offered to give me a ride or come and get me, but stiff and sore, I rode home that evening.
A few days later, someone asked me if it’s worth the risk? It is interesting that more people die from car accidents each year than from bike accidents. Statistically the bike is far safer. I’m more likely to die in a car accident than a bike accident. The truth is, if I die in a bike accident, I will die doing something I love. I don’t resent the risk, or danger, or relative neglect most motorist show me on the road, but I would resent dying in a car accident. Driving in traffic is something I loathe, and honestly, it is hardly worth the statistical risk in relation to the convenience, speed and joylessness I experience.
Is it worth the risk? Yes. When I’m doing something I love there is usually a risk. Most of us opt for the convenience of perceived safety, when in fact, it is far more dangerous than living a life you love.